The Death Of the Boy Who Lived
by Teddy4ever14
Summary: When Albus's father dies, he struggles to pick up the pieces of his newly shattered life
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Albus Potter took in a shaky breath as he gazed at his father through stinging eyes. Harry was laying in a sterile bed in St. Mungo's and his breath was coming no easier than his son's. Albus looked around the quiet room. He looked to his left at his sister's tear streaked face, to her left, at his brother's, that he could tell was struggling to hold in a mountain of emotion, and across the bed at his mother, whose face was twisted in an expression of grief that was impossible to fathom. He looked at the white walls that seemed to amplify the overly cheery light of the rising sun coming in through the windows and from the candles suspended in the air. Albus studied the wilting flowers and hundreds of cards coming in from all over the world for "The Boy Who Lived". They didn't know him, Albus thought bitterly, They're not mourning him, they probably haven't even thought about him for 30 years. The hacking coughs of his weakened father penetrated his thoughts. His eyes continued searching the walls for something new on the blank surface, there was nothing, of course, but Albus couldn't bring himself to look at his father. He could smell the sickly sweet and dirty smell of decaying flowers. It mixed with the scent of cleaning supplies to create an unpleasant stench. He focused on that smell, trying to distract himself. He shifted in his uncomfortable chair and let his hand rest on the scratchy, stiff sheets of his father's bed.

He finally looked back at Harry. He shook and suddenly found it difficult to breathe. A weight pressed down on his chest and silent tears traced their way down his cheek. He might have been a grown man, but his dad had always been a strong, warm figure in his life. He had always taken care of Albus, but there he was, lying in a hospital bed, frail, weak, and dying. Harry took a shuddering breath and began trying to speak.

"Ginny," he coughed before continuing in a weak voice "I'm sorry I couldn't give you everything you deserved".

"No. You were-", her voice cracked and she couldn't continue.

He turned to his three children and said, "I love you all. I'm sorry-", he stopped to cough, "I'm sorry I wasn't a better father to you".

"You were- _are _a wonderful father", Lily comforted.

"Yeah, the best", James added. Albus knew it was his turn to say something, but the words died in his throat. He swallowed and nodded.

Harry smiled sadly. Albus watched his father exhale one more time. He watched Harry's chest deflate shakily. He watched the hand that was in his mother's go limp. He watched the weak light in his eyes fade. Albus watched the last bit of life leave his father, and he knew that the Boy Who Lived lived no more.


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2:

An hour later, he walked out of the hospital and prepared to disapparate. He felt a great weight pressing down on him, but he also felt numb. Everything seemed fuzzy and unsure. He couldn't think. He was swaying and his face was blank. Lily put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"We're here," she swallowed back a sob, "It's never going to be okay, but we're here."

He nodded, forced a sad smile, and when her hand dropped, he waved goodbye and disappeared with a crack.

He was back in his empty home. The room was small but bright. Too bright. He walked around the small perimeter of his living room and kitchen and closed his blinds. He was too tired to walk up the stairs to his room so he lay on the couch. He fell asleep, and when he woke up 5 hours later, he felt more tired than when he went to sleep.

He got up and went to make himself food. He tried to focus, but his head felt like it was clogged with fog. An owl swooped into his his kitchen, screeching far too loudly and dropping 3 letters. One was from his mother, one was from the Granger-Weasleys, and one was from Leo, his best friend. He knew the second two would be condolences, and he wasn't ready to read those, so he looked at the one from his mother. It was talking about when they were going to have the funeral. A wave of crushing static fell over Albus. He couldn't breathe. He felt everything and nothing. The world was moving on around him and he couldn't keep up. The funeral was already being planned. His father was gone. Everything was moving so fast.

He moved to the table in between the kitchen and his living room and sat down. Albus looked back at the letter and read on. The private funeral was being held in two weeks. _Two weeks?_ _That's so little time. _The public funeral was in a month, then they would take his body to major wizarding cities around the globe, before he was buried in the graveyard at Godric's Hollow. _Of course,_ he thought, his face twisting, _everyone wants to gawk at the dead man who saved the world._ He wanted to scream but couldn't find a reason.

Albus tried to keep his mind off of it. He picked up a book off the coffee table, and scanned the pages, without taking anything in. He put the book down and tried desperately to do something. He couldn't find anything to distract himself, so he sat and thought about it. _He can't be gone_, Albus said to himself, _he just can't. He can't be gone, he won't be, I won't let him be… but he is. He can't be!_ Albus screamed in his head. Tears began to prick at his eyes. _I can't go on without him. Why should I go on without him?_

He went back to the couch and fell asleep, only to be awakened by the screeching of another owl. It was asking if he would come to go through his father's papers. Albus felt a sharp coldness rise in him. How could they all want to move on so quickly? He wasn't ready to move on, but felt compelled to go. He had to be there. He couldn't let them take everything left of his father.

He began packing a couple minutes later. He didn't want to bring black. He didn't want to admit his father was gone. He felt compelled to anyways. He folded his darker colors and some of his black shirts into his suitcase. It was noon when he dissaperated. The day he arrived they got right to work. While going through a box of Harry's old papers, Albus tucked away one of his father's old notebook to read for later.

That evening, they had a family dinner in the dining room. His mother was at one end, and Uncle Ron was at the other. He sat next to his sister and his brother, and across from them was the rest of the Granger-Weaslys along with his Grandmother. He picked at his food, but couldn't eat. His father was gone, and they were talking happily about him and his life. He couldn't take it, he stood and quietly stated "I'm not hungry, I'm going to go to my room now."

He heard his mother getting up to follow him, but his grandmother told her to let him go.

Albus sat on his bed and looked at his nightstand. He saw his father's notebook that he had taken from the study. His room was musty and dimly lit, because he hadn't slept there for a while, so he cast Lumos and shifted on his creaky bed to read it. It was old, from the year after the battle of Hogwarts. It mentioned something that piqued his interest.

"...I regret it sometimes… Leaving it in the forest… So many people are gone. I know it only leads to despair, but I wish I still had it. I don't know where the Resurrection Stone is anymore. It's somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, and I know that's where it should stay…"

He remembered the tale of the Deathly Hallows his father had told him as a child. He knew the Resurrection Stone only led to sorrow, but that was just a story. His father used it, and died of pneumonia, not because of the Resurrection Stone. That thought shot through him as a painful reminder. That was what he would do. He would find the Resurrection Stone, and he would bring back his father.

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	3. Chapter 3

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After they had cleaned out his father's study, which took about two days, Albus headed home. He would wait until after the funeral to search for the stone. If it ended up he couldn't find it, which Albus begrudgingly allowed as a possibility, he wanted to give his father a week and a half of mourning before he set off on his search. He still felt sad, but he had a glow of hope inside of him. He walked up the stairs to his room and opened his window. He then turned to his bed where he had set down his suitcase and unpacked before reading more of his father's journal which he had set on his wooden nightstand.

A week and a half later it was time for his father's funeral. Albus wasn't ready, but he knew he would never really be ready. He closed his eyes and steeled himself for the funeral.

When he appeared in the lobby of where the funeral was being held, he felt a wave of sadness go over him. He wandered through the crowd, vaguely heading toward the atrium where it was being held, nodding and giving sad smiles to the soft words and the hands that brushed him from the sea of black clothing. He went and sat on the front bench. He stared at his hands, he couldn't look at his father's open coffin. A few minutes later people began funneling in. His mother sat beside him and squeezed his hand. He had elected not to speak at the funeral, he couldn't take the remembering. It's not like his father was really gone anyways. He would find the Resurrection Stone. He was sure of it. His brow furrowed as the words about his father were said. As time passed he tuned the words out, if he didn't the words would stab into him. Even though he knew, he _knew,_ he would get back his father.

After the end of the funeral, everyone came up to the family to offer their condolences. Albus stayed in the back, doing his best to not show he was raring to go. He had planned everything and he was ready to go to the Forbidden Forest, but he waited. He had to keep up appearances. He knew in the back of his mind that if his family found out, they would try to keep him from going and searching. So he waited, and waited, and waited. _Why was this line so long? This was the private funeral!_

The line finally ended. His family tried to comfort him, but they could tell he was miles away. He disapparated with a bittersweet smile.

He twisted through the darkness and reappeared in his living room. He went back over the supplies he packed. He had withdrawn most of his money from his bank account and translated it into muggle money. packed up half of his closet, and bought a magical tent, and gotten out his old broom. He was ready. He knew it would be hard to find, but that didn't matter to Albus. He was going to find his father.

He apparated into the woods near a small muggle town near Hogwarts. He had rations, but he wanted to make sure the town was friendly to outsiders. It was, so he hopped on his broom and flew through the woods onto the grounds of Hogwarts.

He quickly set up his tent and cast charms to protect it from the creatures in the forest. He then unpacked and got to work. His father had said he had tossed the stone just behind him, and the trees were evergreens, so he figured that there wouldn't be too much if any debris over the stone.

He started by just giving it a shot. "Accio Resurrection Stone!" he cried. Nothing happened, but Albus hadn't really expected anything, he figured there were some charms placed upon it long ago to prevent it from being so easily summoned. So instead he began sweeping the forest floor from where the monument of his father's first death was, to the border of the forest. The area was so, so, so large. He knew it would take a while, but he would do it! He had to do it, He Had To.

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